Death Closes All
by Ladyamesindy
Summary: A child of two families, Commander Sian Shepard finds a way to support those she loves even though her career might be on the line for it.


She was late.

News had come while she was on a mission, out of contact. She'd only found out - a quick glance at her watch - ten hours ago. Anderson made it a point to meet her at the docking bay as she left the ship, bag slung over her shoulder, waving at the Captain behind her. All in all, the mission had been a success.

But all that faded the moment she saw Anderson standing there, waiting for her. Face tight as if holding back emotion, eyes narrowed as they focused solely on her. At first, she wondered if she'd made some egregious mistake during the mission. But no, the objectives were met, the science team rescued, their return as quiet and low key as possible. So, why then was he waiting there ….

Her answer came soon enough.

From the moment the name passed Anderson's lips, Sian felt reality pulling at her from all directions. Memories flooding in, grief flowing out, concern about the others balancing somewhere in between. She was given time to collect herself, change into something more appropriate, pack a bag. Anderson assured her she had time before the shuttle departed. Sian took advantage of every single moment she was given.

It was time to say goodbye.

~ 0 ~

The last shuttle out from Arcturus arrived with minutes to spare, really. As promised, a car was waiting, a driver too, and took her immediately to her destination. Sian spent the entire journey wrapped up in thought, withdrawn from everyone and everything around her. It was hitting too close to home for her - cracking open a box of memories shoved away into hiding for so long. But she was a Shepard. She would prevail, just like before, just like always. That there was the added influence of being associated with the Williams' was often overlooked or flat out ignored by most. But not by Sian.

Sian exited the vehicle upon arrival, shouldering her bag and straightening her shoulders. Tall. Proud. She was a marine, through and through. Officer. A force to be reckoned with. She let no one and nothing stand in the way of her goals in life. And she had one person to thank for teaching her that. The one man who now lay inside.

Swallowing tightly, Sian followed the pathway to the door. She didn't even have to reach for the bell to announce her arrival. One of the girls - Lynn or Sarah, she wasn't sure which, could be heard announcing her arrival. As the doors opened, a stampede of footfalls could be heard approaching. Despite the circumstances, it was nothing but welcoming.

At the head, Mrs. Williams. "Mom," Sian greeted her, a gentle smile at her lips, arms rising almost before she thought about it, both women falling into the embrace easily.

"Sian. I was hoping Anderson would be able to reach you in time."

Sian nodded, pulling back. Her hands dropped to take Mrs. Williams' into her own. "You know I wouldn't miss this," she rasped.

"I know."

A moment later and one by one, Sian was greeting the other girls. Sarah, replete in pigtails. Lynn, eyes wide and so very quiet. Abby, for once not her usual outgoing and bouncy self, but more serene and withdrawn. The contrast was obvious to those who knew her well. And then ….

"Ash."

"Sian."

Within a heartbeat, the two were in the tightest of bear hugs. Of them all, Sian alone knew just how much the loss of a father would mean to someone like Ashley. The closeness her friend and near-sister had developed with her father often reminded Sian of the relationship she'd shared with her own when younger. As they greeted one another, still standing just inside the doorway, half greeting, half grieving, neither noticed when Mrs. Williams guided the rest away leaving just them. Alone.

Sian listened as Ash detailed mumbled on about what had happened. She was home on leave, a chance to spend the holiday with her family. One on one time with her dad to talk about how things in the military were going. Search for personal insight, find strategies to help her continue on even under the most difficult of situations. An afternoon spent at home, her sisters and mother out shopping. One minute he was fine, the next gone. No one close enough to do anything to help. No time to bring in someone who would know how to help him back. But through it all, Sian could see the raging battle within. The refusal to acknowledge personal grief. Insistence that she was fine. The head of the clan now. Sian couldn't help but smile. _ Stubborn. So damned stubborn._ It was a trait they both shared.

Pulling back, Sian eyed Ashley for a long moment. "So," she murmured with a small smile, "this is what it takes, hmm?"

Ashley frowned, hands moving to bat Sian's away from the material at her shoulders before smoothing it over her hips. "I never said I didn't _like_ wearing dresses," she groused, "just that I preferred wearing pants."

The corner of Sian's lips quirked upwards. "And your dad proved he could get you to wear one after all."

Ash sighed, head dropping for a moment, hair falling about her face to hide the emotional reaction. "Yeah …."

Sian set her bag near the stairs, out of the way, then linked her arm through Ash's. "Come on," she murmured quietly, respectfully. "We shouldn't keep him waiting."

The service was out back, in the open air, surrounded by the flowering gardens of the place that had been home for so many years, though he'd had little enough time to enjoy it. As memorials went, Sian supposed it was better than some. It was difficult to compare when your heart was breaking into pieces at the loss of a husband, a father, a friend. Mrs. Williams and all four Williams sisters were present, set off to the side. Sian. A few other family friends. There were even a couple of older servicemen, dressed in civvies but Sian recognized them for who they were. An admiral. A captain. A general. She knew their names, their ranks and their relationships well enough. She also understood the reason for civilian clothing and tried not to let it anger her. Careers needed to be protected, after all, even when paying last respects. It was irritating, to say the least, and as her anger cooled into something more controlled and hidden, Sian found herself particularly glad she chose to be so open about her own association. She now knew how she would say her goodbyes.

Memories were shared. Honors given. Goodbyes said. And then finally, it was her turn. Rising from her seat, Sian turned to speak so that everyone could see her. Hear her.

"He was a man of unconditional kindness," she began, "and of unappreciated vision. The first time I met him, I saw him approaching through swirling smoke and dust, the signs of battle displayed across his armor. I remember a moment of terrorized fear, thinking he had come to finish what the batarians began. But for me he had nothing but a gentle voice, a kind word, a hand offering safety and security in the aftermath of supreme violence and destruction. He cared about those he protected, so much more than most people might even suspect."

Turning, Sian looked out over the crowd of guests, fierce green eyes meeting each and every pair, particularly of those who would hide their associations. "He gave me a home, 'a port in the storm,' he once told me. A place of safety in which to recover and continue growing into the person I was to become."

The air was quiet save for a few birds in a tree nearby, warbling a soft and somewhat subdued tune that was a fitting tribute to the man who had passed. "He gave me hope. Guidance. A future when I thought all around me might tear me apart before I could get there on my own. It is to him I owe this," her hand gestured to her dress blues, to the N7 insignia on the lapel flashing in the bright sunshine, "and so much more."

Sian crossed to the urn on display, the ashes inside all that remained of the man she had come to view as a second father. Hand coming to rest upon the top, fingers tracing the shape with love and deference, she recited:

_Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;  
Death closes all: but something ere the end,  
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,  
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.***_

"You will not be forgotten," she finished. A moment later, she turned away. Instead of returning to her seat, she instead moved to stand behind Mrs. Williams and the girls, set off to the side in the space reserved for family. It was where she belonged, her career be damned.

_***Alfred, Lord Tennyson "Ulysses"_


End file.
